Chapter 75: The Foolish Little Black (Please Continue Reading)

SEB quickly reported back with news. They had tracked down a vehicle, and comparing the man inside with surveillance footage taken outside the park, they confirmed he was indeed the ringleader. But he was already dead. The suspect had attempted to escape, but SEB had rammed his car, blocking the road. He responded by firing at the officers from inside the car, only to be riddled with bullets in return.

Shortly after, the LAPD relayed that, through their database system, they had located the last suspect—hiding in a Black neighborhood in Pasadena. Mesa immediately ordered officers to head to Pasadena to make the arrest, and Ao Xi joined them, exhausted from the relentless pace of the night.

Led by local officers, a convoy of police cruisers stormed into the neighborhood. The commotion woke the residents, who stepped outside to see what was happening and tried to approach the house, only to be driven back by the officers maintaining a perimeter.

They arrived at a typical single-family home in the Black community—a small yard, two stories, barely a meter separating it from the neighbors. The officers encircled the house, parked, and prepared to storm in.

Before they could exit their vehicles, flashes of gunfire erupted from the yard, striking the cruiser parked at the gate. The officers inside ducked and scrambled for cover at the corner of the neighboring house. Ao Xi fired a few blind shots into the yard, then quickly peeked out—he couldn’t spot the shooter, only a criminal marker swaying atop the fence.

That made things easier. He lowered his aim and fired three times in quick succession.

[Host has killed the target. Current tally: 4 out of 10.]

"I hit him! I got him!" a nearby officer squealed, cat-like, as if he’d scored a victory. Ao Xi glanced at him—hit what, exactly? He said nothing, not bothering to argue.

The excited officer, still mewling, raised his weapon and stepped into the yard to check if the target was really dead. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the upstairs window—a Black man—who fired two shots straight at him.

"I’m hit!" the officer cried, scrambling out of the yard on hands and knees, seeking cover behind a squad car. His colleagues immediately rushed to his aid.

Ao Xi raised his gun, aiming at the upstairs window, but the shooter had already ducked out of sight after firing.

Gunfire erupted—his colleagues unleashed a barrage on the upper floor, turning the house into Swiss cheese in seconds. Even after so many years as a cop, Ao Xi was speechless—no warning, just tearing the place apart. Was this really the way?

"I surrender! I surrender! Stop shooting!" the man upstairs quickly shouted in panic.

"Throw out your gun!" someone ordered.

A pistol flew out the window.

"Hands up! Come out of the house!"

A man emerged, hands raised high. Several officers cautiously approached, then rushed him, pinning him down in a pile that could only be described as a tangle of men.

The suspect was clearly not thinking straight—he had surrendered, all he needed to do was cooperate, get cuffed, and be taken to the station. But no, he began to struggle violently. "Why are you arresting me? What did I do wrong?"

Why are you being arrested? What did you do wrong? The answer was obvious.

Other officers streamed into the yard. One checked the body slumped by the fence and confirmed it was Perry Kellerman, the suspect who’d attacked Green. He was dead.

The man who had surrendered was a stranger, and it was unclear why he had fired at the police—perhaps he simply wasn’t right in the head.

Officers entered the house and soon emerged carrying a police duty belt, complete with a Glock 17.

With the gunfire over, the crowd of residents who’d been driven off earlier returned, pointing and whispering among themselves.

The unfamiliar suspect’s struggles were so fierce that officers had trouble cuffing him. This annoyed Antrim, who drew a stun baton and jabbed it at the man. American police have several types of batons—expandable, straight, electric—officers use whatever the department provides or whatever suits the job. In this case, the stun baton left the suspect twitching on the ground, finally subdued and handcuffed before being tossed into the back of a patrol car.

They left the neighborhood amidst the wary, unsettling stares of the onlookers.

Once they were out and safe, Ao Xi finally let out a breath. Raiding a Black neighborhood in the middle of the night, surrounded by curious residents, with only two or three dozen officers, was extremely dangerous. If anything irrational had happened, the consequences could have been disastrous.

He wasn’t afraid—he simply didn’t want such an incident to occur. If it ever came to an all-out firefight with the entire community, there would be no room for restraint, and the fallout would surely shake the whole nation.

Fortunately, they got through it safely.

Back at the station, Ao Xi’s job was done. He found a break room to get some rest, only to find Wally lying on a cot, scrolling through his phone.

"Wally, why didn’t you go home?"

"I’m not in a good mood, and I don’t want to bring that home to my family. So I’m resting here for a bit."

"Want to talk about it?"

Wally pressed his lips together and exhaled deeply. "You know Green—the one who was killed. He’d been on the force over thirty years, father of four. Everyone at the station called him Old Green. He always helped his colleagues—anyone in trouble could count on him. Everyone liked him. All those years, he was content as a patrol officer; he said he loved being a cop and didn’t care about promotion, as long as he could protect the people. On my first day as an intern, Green showed me the ropes. We’ve been close ever since. Green is even Philip’s godfather—my son. Rick’s in the hospital, Green is dead, and the others who were injured or killed—you may not know them, but I do. I know every one of them well. It hurts, but there’s nothing I can do."

Ao Xi was silent for a long time. "It’s not your fault, Wally. We’ve already avenged them. The department has compensation for fallen officers. Things will get better."

"I know, but it still doesn’t feel right. They didn’t do anything wrong, yet suffered so much."

"Want me to get you some liquor? Just a drink?"

"Better not. I have to drive home later—can’t risk a DUI."

Well, at least he plays by the rules.

The two said nothing more, closed their eyes, and tried to sleep. They hadn’t rested long when someone came to wake them.

"Up! Get your uniforms on—big operation tonight. Everyone up and ready to go!"

Ao Xi rubbed his swollen eyes, still half asleep. "What’s going on?"

"Big news! Lomas 13 and Barrett Street are holding negotiations at Twin Peaks restaurant. Supposedly, a couple hundred gang members will be there. Every officer still in the station is required to go, just to keep an eye on them and prevent a brawl."

"But my shift is almost over!"

"Not quite—you’re still on duty, so you’re coming."

"Twin Peaks? That’s a weird name for a restaurant."

A nearby officer sidled up with a lewd grin and nudged Ao Xi’s shoulder. "It’s exactly what you’re thinking—Twin Peaks."